Closer
by swiitchblade
Summary: One unsettling painting sends two young, aspiring artists down the same path, but is it the right one? (Flora Neal x Firkle/Kindergoth)


**Author's Note: **This is my first piece of fiction, fandom or otherwise, in two years. Please, critique. Be honest. Help me grow as a writer. Be constructive!

For those of you wondering who Flora is, she's the blonde pig-tailed girl who first appeared in "Trapper Keeper".  
>The show's kindergartners are all seniors in high school, now. The fourth graders are now in college or are young adults.<br>With that out of the way, enjoy! 

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><p><strong>One<strong>

The morning started no different from any other. Eighteen year old Flora Neal rose from bed as the high pitched tones of her alarm clock brought her dreams to an abrupt end. Her blue eyes opened and she yawned, stretching out her thin body before rolling to her side, shutting off the plastic device, silencing its beeps. The clock read seven. Pushing the blue comforter from her body, she felt the cold of early October hit her. She could see, looking out of her window, that it had rained quite heavily the previous night.

She rolled out of her bed and immediately went to her dresser which stood opposite her bed. Gazing into the mirror that stood on the wall above the white dresser, she saw that her shoulder length blonde locks were a tangled mess. Slowly, she pulled a brush from the dresser-top and ran it gently through her hair, neatly taming it until it was nice and orderly, just how she liked it.

After dressing in a pair of light jeans, a white shirt, and a matching heavy coat, she wandered over to make her bed.  
>As she finished brushing her teeth and tidying her room, she could see that she still had some time. The clock read 7:17. Leaving her bedroom, she could hear her mother downstairs, seemingly conversing with someone on the phone. Slowly, she descended the stairs. As she walked into the kitchen, she saw her mother seated at the table, cell-phone in hand.<p>

"I'm glad to hear you're doing well." her mother, a woman of about forty muttered to the person on the other end of the line. Flora smiled and waved at her mother, getting a glass of water. "Yeah, she just woke up, wanna talk to her?" Flora's mother asked. As Flora turned around, she saw her mother's cell phone being handed to her. Seeing the name of her older sister Milly on the screen of the old phone brought a smile to her face. With her free hand, she took the device and brought it to her ear.

"Hi sis!" she greeted. "How's college? Do you like New York?" It had been so long since they'd been able to speak. Her sister had gone off to university to become an actress.

"Hi Flora!" Milly greeted. Flora could hear the excitement in her voice, the joy of speaking to her younger sibling after so many months. "College is great. New York is amazing! I really think you and mom would like it here."

Flora smiled as she sipped at her water. "It sounds wonderful, Milly. I would love to visit you out there."

"Yeah, I want you and mom to come out here and see me, maybe for Christmas or Thanksgiving. It's so different from Colorado. Everything here moves so fast. It's hard to get used to at first, but once you get past that, it's awesome."

Flora's smile did not cease. "I'd love to see you in New York! Maybe mom and I can go see you in December." she responded, her tone as bright as her smile. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that it was now 7:21. She would have to hurry, as she liked to get to the school as early as possible. She didn't want her perfect attendance record to crumble. "I hate to leave you, Milly, but I have to go to school. I'll give mom the phone. Bye sis!"

With that, she passed her mother's cell phone back to her and grabbed her car keys which sat on a hook near the door before pulling the large glass door open and leaving the house, carefully shutting it behind her.

Immediately, she could feel the cold, wet October air envelope her. She took a breath of the cool air and smiled. Thankful for her warm attire, she wandered over to her vehicle. The car was nothing glamorous, initially. It was on old van purchased for a relatively low price. She had painted and decorated it to her liking. Gone was the old rusty paintjob, replaced by a serene white. The inside of her car was just as welcoming. The seats had clean, warm covers that hid the torn up leather. The back section had received a total makeover, painted in all sorts of bright colors. The van was warm, welcoming, different from what one would expect from that sort of vehicle.

The drive to the local high school was a very short one, as the town was populated by a small number of people. It was the sort of community where everyone knew everyone. The high school was a three floor complex. To call the high school anything but bland in appearance would be a crime amongst those who appreciated fine architecture. It was the sort of building that had been quickly thrown together in the 1950s. Function first. After pulling her van into the student parking lot, she shut off the vehicle before grabbing her bag and exiting, locking it as she headed into the building.

Gone immediately was the chilliness of mid-October, replaced by the warmth of Park County High School's heating system. With a smile, she immediately made her way to her locker. Locker number 324. Quickly, she dialed her combination and pulled the metal door open. Removing her coat, she hung it on a hook placed within the steel container and shut it, putting the lock back in its place before heading to her first class of the day, Advanced Art.

The amount of students in the well-lit Art room on the second floor was small. There were only eleven students in the class. The walls of the large room were covered in completed projects by the various drawings, paintings, and other such projects. Some were famous and immediately recognizable, others were the work of various students over several years. Seated at a small desk near a large whiteboard that faced the class was Christopher Curtis, the instructor. He was a man somewhere in his forties. His face was coarse from heavy usage of dull razor blades. His eyes were inviting. He seemed like the sort of man that would be seen passing around a pipe with a group of friends in his younger years. Flora, being the second student to show up, was greeted by Curtis with a smile and a hello. His voice was a deep baritone, but it was by no means threatening. Flora smiled and returned the greeting, setting her car keys down before placing her bag next to her table. The tables were all meant to seat two students, but with the class being so small, most of the teenage artists had them to themselves. She looked around the room and saw the only other student who had arrived. He was a short young man, compared to Flora. He stood to be about five feet, three inches in height while Flora was a long and slender five foot ten. He brushed a few strands of dark hair out of his face as he stared at his notebook, his right hand moving very quickly across the page, writing something with what seemed to be feverish urgency. Flora's eyes eventually left the other student and moved to Mister Curtis.

"What will we be doing today, sir?" she eventually asked. The teacher looked up from the desk he was seated at and he gazed back at her.

"We'll be painting something this week. I'll tell you more when class starts."

Before much longer, the other students wandered into the room, all taking their seats at the tables that they usually occupied. The only table that was used by two people as designed was a table at the near left from Mr. Curtis. The seats were taken by Flora's close friend Jenny and her boyfriend since tenth grade year, whose name was Brandon. Jenny smiled and waved at Flora before sitting down. After the class was filled and the bell had rung, Curtis rose from his desk and greeted the students.

"So, last week, you guys turned in your custom album covers. I graded them, so let me know if you want those back. Anyway, I know those took quite a while, so today, we're going to do something much more relaxed. Over there…" he pointed to the far right of the room, to several blank, small canvases. "…are some blank canvases. I want you guys to paint your home. I don't mean your actual home. I want you to paint your future home. What do you expect of your future? What do you see the world looking like ten or twenty years from now? What do you see your future home as? I'm gonna give you guys the next few days to work on it." With that, the students got to work.

The next few days in art class had been pleasant. Mr. Curtis had been playing Rolling Stones albums through the stereo on his desk as he watched his students work, making little comments here and there. Flora had been painting a beautiful country scene. It depicted a wide, open green field with one small, quaint house placed on top, the bright blue sky hanging overhead. She had finished first. She turned to Jenny, who had been to the right of her. She gazed at Jenny's painting. It was of a very large, nice two story home in the suburbs. Quite different from what she'd been accustomed to. Given her economic background, Jenny had become determined to be wealthy and successful. Flora smiled encouragingly at her.

"You'll get there one day, Jenny. I know you will." Jenny turned and smiled at Flora before getting back to work. Finished with her own assignment, Flora stepped away and allowed Curtis to take a look at her work.

"This is great, Flora. Really well done. You wanna live in the middle of nowhere?" Upon remembering that this was South Park and they already lived in the middle of nowhere, he clarified. "I mean, in the middle of, ultra-nowhere?"

Flora nodded. "Yeah, it's so peaceful out there. Ever since I was really little, I've wanted to live a simple life." She walked away from her canvas, examining everyone else's progress. Her eyes stopped at the far left of the classroom.

On the opposite end of her easel stood the short boy who had been frantically writing in his notebook just days before. It wasn't he that caught her eye, though. It was his painting. On the canvas was a dark painting in both colour and content. The scene was of an old, rundown city. Towers of concrete towered in the gloomy white sky. She couldn't help but approach it. The boy had just finished it, setting his brush down. The painting was, to say the very least, frightening, haunting. The dark towers gave the observer a feeling of being squished, sealed in a very tight room to never escape. Flora couldn't tear her eyes from it. She saw out of the corner of her eye that the short male who had created this dark thing was staring at her, watching her. He didn't seem angry. His face wasn't one of anger. It was blank, expressionless. The two locked eyes for a moment. His eyes were a light gray, not too different from some of the shades used in his painting. He couldn't be any more different from her in appearance. He was dressed in black slacks and a matching button up shirt. His eye shadow looked no different. Flora looked from the boy to his painting, then back to him. Like the work of art, her blue eyes were drawn to him.

Mister Curtis walked up and observed the dark piece. He smirked. "Got it, Firkle. It's really good." Just as she was about to say something in agreement, the sound of the bell came piercing through the relative silence of the art class. Before she could say anything, the boy called Firkle grabbed his bag and left the room.


End file.
